A Life Lived in Fear
by firebird5
Summary: Another chapter after four years! It's a miracle! Dib has some problems at home that he can't tell anyone about. When they escalate, he finally realizes how much he needs someone.
1. An Innocent Outlook

Hey there, everyone! I am writing another fic! Why? Because I don't want to study German grammar! (who would?) This makes much fun. Yes.  
  
WARNING: This fic deals largely with domestic abuse. I may also be including ZADR later; I will let you know for sure later.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, only my sick and twisted ideas.  
  
A Life Lived in Fear  
  
Dad slammed my fingers in the closet door. I don't think he meant to; it was just one of those things that happens, and you feel bad about, mostly. He did feel bad; he kissed them both while he made an ice pack. He declared that they were all better, and told me to sit in my room til the hurt went away. They hurt a lot, and I remember they got big and red and purple.  
  
I went to show him after a few hours. I hadn't really stopped crying, because I couldn't think of anything but how they felt like fire. He glanced at them and told me to go to bed. I insisted that they hurt too much for me to sleep, holding my left hand up so he could see the hurt. His eyes slowly peeled themselves away from the bubbly instruments on the counter, and said to sleep NOW or they will hurt more. That scared me, cause they already hurt a lot. I didn't want it to get real bad. So I ran up to my room and went to bed.  
  
No one ever did take me to the doctor for that. Mom wrapped them up for me when Dad was gone, wrapped them good and tight. She said she was trying to fix them nice, and told me another story about space aliens. I always had to let her cut the bandages off when Dad came home, though. She said he was too stress-ed to see that my fingers still hurt.  
  
No one really asked about it at school. Both of those fingers were twisted funny when it stopped hurting. Kind of like they were trying to point at something I couldn't see. Mom said it was okay, and that I shouldn't be sad. It was something u-nique about me. That means special. It's funny when someone asks how old I am, though. I think they can see my bent fingers when I show them I'm eight. But they never ask me questions. Maybe they don't really notice it.  
  
Three years later..  
  
*** September 16 It's been a year since Mom died now. I miss her so much that it hurts sometimes. My fingers throb, remembering the first time she covered for Dad. Sometimes I get angry that she never did anything to help me before. it happened. But then I remember that she didn't know she was going to get hit by that drunk driver. She didn't know that she had to stop being scared that day, before she left for work. She didn't know that she would be gone, and there would be no one around to help me keep Dad away when he got angry.  
  
He gets angry more now that she's gone. I think Mom was the only thing that kept him from exploding. Now he's always on me about something. When he's here. If it's just me and him, then I have to look out. I used to be okay just staying in my room, but the door's no barrier lately. He comes in anyway.  
  
Nothing is really that bad. I get bruises or cuts, but nothing I can't shrug off to others as clumsiness. The few who care enough to ask are ignorant enough to believe me. I'm the crazy one. Just because I hold on to the one thing that keeps my mother with me, I'm crazy.  
  
They don't even notice the alien. He showed up at the beginning of this year. His green skin and earless, noseless head completely give it away, but everyone falls for his stunt. I can't believe how ignorant they are.  
  
Luckily, Dad's at the lab for this week. If he stops home, chances are that I'll be at school, or out doing something else. I'll find other things to do. I always can.  
  
It feels good to be able to get this out to someone. I really can't talk to anyone about this stuff. About Dad, anyway. I'm too. afraid. Like Mom was. He would get mad, and hurt me even worse. Most of the time, he'll just yell. But anything is still possible, especially now, around the time Mom died. I'll write again sometime.  
  
-Dib *** 


	2. Another Weekend

Chapter dos! Yeah, I'm on a roll here.  
  
By the way, if you can't tell, there's ANGST in this fic. Surprise.  
  
Four years later. (i.e. Dib is now seventeen)  
  
Dib swallowed hard. It was Friday, 2:55 p.m. All of his fellow classmates squirmed in their seats, hoping anxiously that the clock would miraculously speed forward, letting them escape the last five minutes of their hideous chemistry teacher's torture.  
  
'These idiots don't know what torture really is,' thought Dib bitterly. 'They want to go home. To spend time with their friends, having stupid girly sleepovers or playing DND in the basement. My home isn't even a home. It's a house I live in.'  
  
2:56. Couldn't that clock go any slower? Dib squeezed his eyes shut, wishing beyond all hope that it would stop, or that a tornado siren would tell them to stay just a little longer.  
  
He tried every Friday that he knew Gaz would be gone. It never worked. He just ended up breaking the pencils that he clenched in concentration.  
  
'Damn. 2:58.' Dib supposed he could try sleeping at skool again. However, the idea was almost, almost less appealing than being at home. Besides, last time he had gotten a detention. "Failure to leave school grounds at designated time" was the reason. It was one of the most bogus things he'd ever heard someone getting written up for.  
  
Zim had gotten worse ones by far. He smiled, remembering when the human impersonator had tried to flood the school with pudding. His detention slip had read, "Improper use of school supplies." That line basically proved that none of the glop they received was food. Not that Dib had expected otherwise.  
  
The sudden screech of the final bell snapped him out of his reflections. Students rose from their seats, jabbering as they all tried to get out the door at once. The chemistry teacher called out the assignment, trying in vain to raise his voice above the twenty-five hundred students starting their weekend.  
  
Dib was last out the door, hands in his trench coat. Trying to casually meander down the hallway and failing miserably, his stiff legs suddenly didn't carry him forward. The pink-brown tile rushed up toward him. In the attempt to pull his hands out to catch himself, Dib managed to fall on some cheerleader's feet. She squealed and jumped back into her boyfriend's arms.  
  
The huge jock leaned over Dib, eyes calculating every bit of him. Finally, he said, "If I didn't have a game tonight, I'd smack you up again, Spacequeer."  
  
Dib just grimaced and nodded, as per the custom, and turned himself over onto his elbows. Looking up, he saw exactly what he had suspected.  
  
"In trouble and the weekend hasn't even started yet, hmm, DIB?" Zim leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed and a smirk spreading to every corner of his green face. "Looks like I'm ahead here already."  
  
Dib sighed, not in the mood to worry about both Zim and his father. "Thanks for the trip, it was great." He stood, brushing the dust from his black clothing and turning away.  
  
Less than three steps later, Zim was in his face again, looking slightly peeved. "Pathetic Earth-weasel, I won't fall for any of your foolish tricks. You forget I am much more advanced than you, and don't waste my brain-meats on foolishness."  
  
"Yes, yes," Dib muttered with a roll of his eyes. "Superiority and all that jazz." He glared at Zim. "I'm leaving now." Dib stepped to the side.  
  
Zim was right there yet again. 'Isn't this fucking alien ever going to leave me alone?!'  
  
Zim stared at Dib, violet eyes slit like knives. "Has something been attacking your filthy human mind? Confront Zim! The Dib would never run from a fight."  
  
Getting very tired, Dib decided to just turn around and walk the long way out. As he forged his path down the hall, he heard Zim shout, "I'll find out what you're up to, Dib! Make no mistake, you shall not leave Zim in defeat!"  
  
'I have a much worse battle to fight,' thought Dib wearily. 'I'll leave you however I want.'  
  
Deciding to gather everything he might need right away, Dib rushed up the carpeted stairs to his room. Only the basics found their way into his navy blue messenger bag. That stupid encounter with Zim had cost him an extra half hour; the time bomb now counted fifty-six minutes to detonation.  
  
Gaz was spending the weekend at a gamer's convention several hours away. Her friends made special outings like this at least three times a year. Just as routinely, it seemed, his father managed to unexpectedly stop home at some time during those weekends. Dib now correlated the words 'weekend' and 'pain.'  
  
'I wish I could say something to her,' Dib thought through the panicky static foaming over his mind. 'But she can't know. It wouldn't be good. Then she'd get hurt, too, and I'd get hurt more. That can't happen. I'll never let Dad hurt her.'  
  
Dib had made a solemn vow years ago to protect Gaz from their father, no matter the cost. Luckily, the professor seemed to only occasionally acknowledge her presence, and she had no strange bruises or cuts.  
  
Grabbing his journal from the cluttered desk, Dib shoved it in the bag over his shoulder as he descended. The light in the kitchen was off, and early shadows cast themselves over the linoleum. He checked his pockets as he entered, checking for his binoculars and the emergency cash (a $5 bill). A slip of paper was folded in with the money, something scribbled over it.  
  
Dib reached out to flip the light on, trying to determine the paper's value. Before his hand even touched the switch, a gloved hand snapped out of nowhere, pinning his wrist to the wall. 


	3. The Unspeakable

Here's the long-awaited third chapter! Well, I guess it wasn't that long.  
  
On we go!  
  
Where we last saw our hero.  
  
Dib stands in a dark kitchen, trying to read a note. As that does not work, he reaches out to turn the light on. and "a gloved hand snapped out of nowhere, pinning his wrist to the wall."  
  
Ooh. I left you hanging in a sneaky spot! Here we go.  
  
Dib's reflexes completely took over. Forgetting about the paper, Dib let his full weight fall away from the hand's direction. He began shrugging off his bag, intent on breaking lose.  
  
This plan was to no avail. Dib's assailant fell with him, landing on his back as they crashed to the floor. Another hand shoved his right cheek down to the dirty tile.  
  
"Prepared to surrender yet, pathetic worm-baby?"  
  
Dib sighed, relieved and annoyed all at once. "Whatever, Zim. Get off me."  
  
The not-so-heavy alien shifted hands planted impatiently on his hips as he waited for Dib to brush off. Stretching his back and straightening his glasses, Dib finally turned to Zim, silently fuming and wishing his glare could incinerate him.  
  
"You dropped this." Zim skimmed over the paper between his claws. "'I'll be back early tonight. Be home.'"  
  
Dib's eyes widened as he lunged for the note. He'd forgotten to read it this morning, having just shoved it in his pocket.  
  
Zim transferred it to the other hand, leaving Dib to rebound off the wall. "Now," Zim mused, "whatever would an important man like your father come home early for? He must have something to say to you - or give you."  
  
"Zim, just get out of here," Dib nearly pleaded. The memory of the last time he'd had a friend over was still vivid in his mind - and on his scarred knee. He couldn't imagine the professor's reaction when Dib wasn't waiting alone, and he didn't care to experience it.  
  
"He probably has some device you asked him to create," Zim argued to no one, "something that you would use to annihilate my base, or sneak into my lab with, perhaps. I will find out what it is, Dib-monkey. You shall not fool ZIM!" He struck a pose, fists raised high.  
  
Dib sighed, looking at his watch. Half an hour?! He could be here at any moment!  
  
Dib dashed out of the kitchen, leaving a perplexed Zim behind. Up the stairs, through the door, bag under the bed.  
  
Appearing as suddenly as he'd disappeared, Dib grabbed Zim from behind, shoving him into the nearby closet. As Zim tried to protest, Dib cut him off. "If you even *think* of saying or doing anything when my father gets here." Dib trailed off for a moment, trying furiously to think. ".H-he'll take you to his lab and do. stuff!"  
  
Zim would have spoken again, were it not for the door slamming in his face. Only slightly relieved, Dib turned to leave, almost running into.  
  
Dib swallowed hard.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Zim silently cursed Dib for placing him in this situation. Now, trapped in this filthy kitchen closet, he would have to wait for the opportune moment before he could escape. And he didn't even know Dib's horrible plan yet.  
  
Zim turned the knob, making sure he hadn't been and wouldn't be locked in by leaving the door just slightly ajar. The muffled voices of Dib and Professor Membrane could be heard more clearly, and their shadows told him exactly where they were in the kitchen. He listened, hoping he might see what horrible invention they were planning on for his demise.  
  
He heard the professor's voice first. ".sweep this floor? It's the simplest of chores and you can't even take care of that! You're such a worthless piece of-"  
  
"Maybe I'd know some of this stuff if someone was around to show me how it's done!" Dib's voice carried more anger and fear all at once than Zim had ever heard him display before. "I just worry about taking care of myself, and you couldn't even teach me that!"  
  
Zim heard a crack like flesh on flesh. His eyes widened. "You ungrateful son of a bitch! I spend my time working on things you couldn't begin to imagine of, working so you can live in comfort. And this is how you thank me?! I do more for you than you would ever do for anyone else!"  
  
"It's not doing me any good, damnit! Would you just take one second to look at me?"  
  
There was a slight pause. "The only way that I've failed," the professor spoke slowly, "shows every time I remember what you are: a faggot." The last word was accompanied by a harsh blow that sent Dib to the floor. Safe in the closet, Zim saw him nearly hit the kitchen table as he fell. 'He's gay?'  
  
The boy rose to his feet as quickly as he could, turning to face his father again. 'Why does he keep going back?' Zim wondered silently.  
  
"Have you ever realized that you played a part in who I am?" He gestured wildly. "I've never been good enough for you! And -"  
  
"You never even tried!" Dib's father stepped forward, shoving his son against the wall. A hanging picture fell to the floor and shattered. "I've never gotten any respect from you, ever!"  
  
"You don't give me reason to respect you, *Dad!*" Dib screamed. "How the hell am I supposed to treat you when you do this shit to me?!"  
  
A gut punch silenced him. Zim watched as Dib fell to the floor, gasping for air. "You won't get anywhere like that! People will disrespect you all your damned life -" A sharp kick. "- but you'll still have to show respect!" The larger man hoisted his son up by the collar of his jacket. "When you get into the real world, you'll never make it anywhere!" He roughly let go.  
  
"I'm already doing better than you ever will!" Dib was unrelenting. He seemed determined to win this argument. 'You won't win anything if you're not alive, Dib,' Zim thought to himself.  
  
The professor cackled maniacally. "I don't see you succeeding at anything. You're worthless."  
  
Dib took a deep, strained breath. His voice calm, Dib replied, "Not according to the last boyfriend I had."  
  
Zim couldn't even see what force had hurled Dib to the ground, it moved so fast. "Shut up, bastard! I told you, I do not accept or even *tolerate* your fuck buddies! And he didn't stick around for very long, did he?!"  
  
By the end of his rant, Dib had picked himself up again. It was obvious to Zim that he wouldn't be able to take too much more. Dib spoke again. "He wasn't a fuck buddy! He loved me!"  
  
His father sneered. "Yeah, I bet he did. And I bet you loved him too, *Dib*- " he moved closer, "-especially when he did *this!*"  
  
His gloved hand thrust forward, landing in Dib's crotch. Zim's eyes widened. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Dib gasped in shock, a look of fear splayed across his features. He tried backing away, hands desperately pushing at his father. But Dib was already against the wall. Nowhere to go.  
  
The professor stepped even closer, landing his other fist repeatedly on the side of Dib's head. The boy whispered something Zim couldn't hear.  
  
"Stop?" his father snorted. "You're the one who likes this Dib, remember?" He still held onto Dib through his pants. "And this-" he tugged the pants down, boxers with them.  
  
Dib began sobbing hysterically, begging for him to stop. He shoved at his father with outstretched arms, trying to get into the connected living room. The professor grabbed Dib's lower legs, making him fall in the doorway. All Zim could see now were Dib's lower legs and some of the professor, hands and knees on the floor over his son.  
  
"You like this," he heard the older man say. Dib continued to shout. "And this-" Dib let out a scream unlike anything Zim had ever heard before. It made a shiver run down his back.  
  
That's what finally kicked Zim into action. Enemy or not, this was *wrong*. This was beyond wrong; it was. really bad.  
  
Letting out a cry, Zim leapt from the closet, he landed facing the professor, who had turned to look. Stun gun in hand, Zim rendered him unconscious with a single shot. The alien sighed in relief.  
  
The only noise left was Dib's feverish panting. Putting his weapon away, he moved toward Dib, quick but cautious. He was nearly unconscious. Zim winced at the blood on the floor.  
  
Bending down, Zim flipped the professor on his back, freeing Dib's legs. The boy cried out in pain, enough strength left to look up at his rescuer. The look in his eyes would keep Zim awake for nights to come.  
  
On his knees beside Dib, he whispered to him softly before removing the professor's fist as carefully as he could. It was then that Zim decided he would care for Dib until he was well.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Shit, I can't believe I just wrote that. Wow. I'm even in shock. Don't flame me, I didn't even know where I was going there.  
  
*shiver* How could I be so evil?.... 


	4. Picking Up Dib's Pieces

Wow. Bet you didn't think I would ever update, hm? And now that it's been four years and I have a degree in English, this should finish up pretty well, and will hopefully be a good way for me to get back into the habit of writing. Special thanks to Sjonna for the review that got this chapter going. Thanks for reminding me about this story!

break!

The hardest part at first had been trying to decide whether or not to take Dib back to his base. After he had passed out, Zim began by restoring a portion of the boy's dignity and gently dressing him, wincing each time Dib moaned in pain. This did nothing to cover up the fact that the floor was slick with blood and still more seeped from Dib's unconscious form.

Zim paused, examining his enemy's injuries. Dib's right eye was nothing but a purple bruise, swollen and distorted. His bottom lip was split and oozing blood over his distorted jaw, mixing with the blood from his broken nose. Bruises on both wrists, peeking out from under Dib's perpetual trench coat, showed where the Professor had restrained Dib. Zim guessed some of his internal organs had probably sustained damage, and he likely had broken bones as well.

As Dib released another groan, Zim nearly lifted him from the floor and ran back to his base with him. But at the last moment, Zim stopped and jumped away from Dib's body in horror.

_This is my enemy,_ Zim thought to himself, _ENEMY. He is vile, and sneaky, and he does. . . stuff. And things. And other stuff that makes my mission difficult and hard. And not easy._

Another part of Zim seemed to disagree. _I saw what his father did. If I leave the two of them here like this, Dib will get beat up again._

_Not my problem, _Zim rethought. _In fact, it will probably get Dib out of my way enough to destroy the humans._

But another look at Dib, lying beaten and violated in his own home, made Zim kneel next to his former enemy, lift him carefully into his arms, and begin the trek back to his base.

_After all,_ Zim thought, _it's hardly a fair fight between us if other forces are interfering. Zim alone shall destroy the Dib, and none other._

break!

Back at his base, Zim quickly researched how to care for human injuries. Carefully pasting his hands, Zim applied ice to Dib's jaw and disinfectant to his various wounds. After discovering at least three broken ribs, Zim bound his torso as well. He found it odd to be in such close proximity with the Dib after three intense years of avoidance and disgust, but after spending several hours so near him, the awkward feeling gradually dulled to an occasional nudge of conscience. His unconscious body just wasn't threatening at all.

_So much blood,_ Zim thought to himself, sitting next to the sleeping figure once his wounds had been cleaned. The bucket by his feet once held clean, soapy water, now tinted an odd, dark red from all the blood. Blood that Dib's own father had ripped from his son's body.

This brought deeper thoughts to Zim's mind. How could a father do such a thing to his own son? The yelling was one thing; from what Zim had gathered, all Earth parents yelled at their children to a certain degree. The physical abuse had startled Zim, who had never thought he would encounter such an atrocity. But the extent to which the professor had gone was much, much further than Zim ever thought he would sink.

Sexual abuse rarely occurred on Irk; if it did, offenders were swiftly punished, and none too gently, either. The mere thought of such things existing within a family unit boggled Zim's mind. On Earth, family held much more value, seeing as families on Irk had been replaced by calculated reproduction and training. The alien had presumed for some time that Dib's family was not very close, but never would have suspected something this drastic.

How long could this have been going on? Since high skool started, since Zim came to Earth, even longer? Question upon question built up in his mind until he could no longer stand it. He rose from his seat beside Dib and began pacing the small room.

"Computer, how long until the human is well?"

"Um... I don't know."

Zim sighed and stopped his agitated march. "Could you at least make an educated guess?"

"Approximately four days to one Earth week before the human is fully recuperated."

Zim cursed under his breath. Even using his knowledge of advanced Irken medicine, Dib was still taking too long to recover. Though he supposed, given the extent of his injuries, it made sense. "Very well," Zim responded. He needed to escape these morbid thoughts for a while. "Alert me when he regains consciousness."

"Affirmative."

His weary steps carried him out to the living room, where Gir sat staring, transfixed by some strange show on the tele-vishy thing. The echo of false sound was occasionally broken by Gir's maniacal giggling, which Zim supposed was also false in nature. But the robot's glee still made him feel better somehow. Unfortunately, a giggly, screaming, should-have-been-committed-last-decade robot was the last thing a recovering human needed.

"Hey Gir, do you want to go get tacos?"

The little robot turned toward Zim, eyes fixated on his master. For a few moments, Zim thought Gir had spontaneously shut down again, like after the peanut butter and arsenic incident. But Gir suddenly leapt from the couch and squeezed him with all his robot strength. "YAY! You love me!"

"Can't... breathe..." Zim gasped. Gir squealed and released him. He leapt toward the front door, donning his doggy suit as he opened it. Once Zim could breathe again, he handed Gir some of the strange trading paper humans used. "Here are some moneys. Get a... I don't know. Get your tacos and then do stuff and things. And keep your doggy suit on this time! We don't need more people complaining about naked dogs, or finding out that you are really a brilliant robot crafted specifically for an even more brilliant master!"

Gir just blinked and then disappeared in a puff of dust. Zim could hear him screeching down the street.

Zim considered both the crazed robot loose on human streets and the enemy human healing in his own base. "I hope I don't regret this," Zim sighed as he shut the door.

break!

I'm already working on the next chapter! YAAAY!!


End file.
